Mr. Lambert

Author: Jean-Jacques Sempé [France], translated by Qiushan
Publisher:
Publish Date: March 1, 2003
Features: A style of French art cinema—fixed settings, recurring characters, endless Christmases, and a perpetually absent person who is the book’s true protagonist. Politics, football, and women become an outlet for men to mask their inner desolation. The life in cafes is bleak, with everyone rambling but remaining silent.
Who is Sempé? The simplest answer—arguably a master of picture books. When it comes to picture books, some might mention Jiro Taniguchi of Taiwan, but when discussing the rich humanistic tradition of European picture books, no one dares to overlook Sempé. Sempé is a subtle and nuanced concept, a taste, a style (if the word "style" hasn’t been corrupted beyond recognition). His brilliance lies in the space between near and far, in the half-dream and half-awake state, in the tension between indifference and compassion—like a cup of water that has settled for a long time and is then gently stirred. Since his debut as an illustrator for Little Nicolas in 1960, he has published over twenty works, with devoted Sempé fans worldwide, who communicate and share the joy of reading Sempé in their own ways.
Sempé has no distinctive "Sempé language," which leaves his fans without the common entry points other fans might use. "Sempé" becomes the only key to this enchanting world. It’s hard to say precisely what Sempé focuses on. French publications describe his typical characters as small as birds, unable to soar freely, trapped by daily trivialities yet idealists dreaming of vast, open spaces, firmly rooted in the earth. He is sharp and detached. Mr. Lambert is entirely in the style of French art cinema—fixed settings, recurring characters, endless Christmases, and an absent person who is the book’s protagonist. Politics, football, and women become an outlet for men to mask their inner desolation; life in cafes is bleak, with everyone talking endlessly yet saying nothing at all.
He is humorous. In Airmail, the clash between bombastic culture and deeply yet somewhat decline culture is portrayed in a laugh-out-loud manner. He is delicate. My Half is a vivid tapestry of emotional landscapes, filled with desire, calculation, sacrifice, and waiting, each emotional cross-section thick, absurd, and tinged with doubt. He is incisive. Morning depicts the threshold between dreams and wakefulness—a time where will and desire, hope and loss coexist. The flowing scenes of consciousness and the dim, stripped-down figures they portray may come closer to our souls. In A Little Paris, even the grandeur of Paris is just a prop, behind every vista, there’s a small, provincial Frenchman. Perhaps understanding the significance of small individuals in this way is far more meaningful than trying to comprehend a great city.
The book is entirely in the style of French art cinema—fixed settings, recurring characters, repetitive dialogue, and an absent person who is the book’s true protagonist. Politics, football, and women become an outlet for men to mask their inner desolation; life in cafes is bleak, with everyone rambling but remaining silent.